


hold your breath, don't let go

by beanpod



Series: holding a heart [2]
Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Drinking, Family Issues, Kissing, M/M, Panic Attacks, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 09:22:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21116447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanpod/pseuds/beanpod
Summary: Kihyun says, when they’re drinking and he’s had one too many soju bombs, “You don’t have to feel sorry for yourself. You’re still out there, trying, despite everything; that makes you a special kind of brave, and you should be proud of that,” and Hoseok only believes him in those moments because there’s nothing much he believes in these days.





	hold your breath, don't let go

**Author's Note:**

> a little bit of college backstory, mmmm. takes place around 5-6 years before the first part? idk, listen, what are timelines and who needs them anyway.
> 
> [!] please do note the warnings in this, and also notice i've added the anxiety disorder tag to the first part because apparently i'm doing this seriously.
> 
> i've tried to tag things accordingly but if you think i missed something please let me know in the comments. also, the kissing part in this happens under the influence but both parties consent to it.

It all goes to shit shortly after the start of sophomore year of college, sometime around November, and it’s bad.

Hoseok struggles for a whole week not knowing what’s going on, not knowing why his brain’s pitting itself against him, why it won’t shut the fuck off. It’s bad and there’s a bit of drinking and a bit of pot and questionable choices and shakes on his fingers that last for fucking hours on end, cotton on his mouth and dread in his lungs, and it’s hard just to _exist_ some days, so fucking hard.

He doesn’t tell anyone about it. His mom calls and checks on him and he lies through his teeth every time, says he’s okay while pinching the skin between his thumb and index until there’s a bruise there and the achy beginnings of a blister. He scratches at a phantom itch on the inside of his left arm until there’s red and it still won’t go away but his mom sends love through the line and Hoseok thinks it’ll have to do.

Hyunwoo notices the bruises because he notices fucking everything and Hoseok can’t catch a fucking break, ever, so he sits on Hyunwoo’s bed in Hyunwoo’s dorm-room while Hyunwoo struggles to put his concern into words. Hoseok hates him, a little, how composed he still looks even if he flounders for the right words he thinks won’t scare Hoseok off.

Truth is it takes very little to scare Hoseok off these days, considering he spends 24/7 already in a mild panic just resting under the surface.

“I’m worried about you,” is what Hyunwoo closes with, not that Hoseok’s really been paying attention. “I know stuff is hard right now. I know it is, Hoseok, but you gotta know I’m here for you always.”

_You know_, Hoseok wants to repeat, _you know? What do you even think you know? _

“I know,” he says meekly, because he doesn’t really wanna do _this_, or get into this, or explain everything that’s been happening. But Hyunwoo’s like a dog with a bone when he’s like this and Hoseok acquiesces, “I know, buddy. It’s just… a little complicated right now.”

Hyunwoo’s lips are pressed into a thin line and Hoseok thinks, for the first time in years, that maybe this is it, this is the thing that drives them apart, the thing that burns the whole bridge between their lives to the ground and blows the ashes away. Maybe, he thinks desperately, maybe this is the part where he falls out of love, the part where he finds himself whole again and stops feeling like there’s a giant hole in his chest the size of Hyunwoo.

Maybe.

“I’ve noticed the bruises,” Hyunwoo says, voice so parched it grates on Hoseok’s nerves, “I’ve seen the scars.”

_You’ve seen nothing_, Hoseok wants to spit, but his heart aches and his lungs burn and the skin under his sweater sleeves itches. “I’m fine,” he says, but Hyunwoo scoffs and Hoseok sees red for the first time ever and adds, “You have no fucking idea. You don’t know what it’s like so stop pretending you do, stop pretending you fucking _care_.”

_But you don’t know_, he wants to add, _but of course you don’t fucking know, because your life is fucking perfect and your family isn’t breaking apart, of course you don’t fucking know_. But that’s not fair, is it, and Hoseok knows Hyunwoo’s life’s far from perfect, either.

He’s not going to cry. Hoseok barely cries these days. Crying means swollen eyes and unkind headaches the morning after. It sucks. But right now he wants to, he wants to burst out crying and scream and punch something, _hurt_ something and feel other than _this_.

“I care,” Hyunwoo says, fists clenched on his lap, knuckles white. “I may not know what it’s like but I fucking care, Hoseok, and you can’t hold that against me. I _want_ to help you. Please let me.”

Hoseok smiles wryly and inhales shakily through an already runny nose. “How can I let you help if I don’t know what’s wrong, man, I’m barely figuring this shit out.” He leans back against the wall—Hyunwoo’s room is more familiar to him than his own room is. The posters are Hoseok’s picks as much as Hyunwoo’s, and half the books on his shelf are hand-me-downs from Hoseok’s brother because they’re both same majors, so it’s kind of homey, in a way. He sighs, licks his lips.

“Alright, Hyunwoo, you want the truth, I’ll give it to you.”

_This is it_, a corner of his mind whispers, _this is the moment he runs away_.

“Spoke to a counselor last week, from the Student Services building? I’ve been having… issues. With, like,” he blows out a breath, laughs a little hollowly, “everything, really. Nothing’s going well and my head just… doesn’t feel my own some days.”

His fingers itch and he picks listlessly at the fabric of his worn out jeans. Hyunwoo sits quietly beside him and it’s like being in Mrs Cho’s office all over again, trying to see through the fog of messy thoughts in his head.

“It’s all just. Anxiety, she says. I can go days on autopilot and feel a semblance of ‘okay’ and then it just. It isn’t okay anymore. I don’t,” he shakes his head a little to clear his thoughts, “I don’t hurt myself. Or at least, I haven’t yet.” At this Hyunwoo stops moving, feels like he even stops breathing. It hurts in between Hoseok’s ribs, a dull ache and tug that takes his mind on a wild loop of _I cannot be doing this to him, I shouldn’t be telling him this_, and guilt claws painfully at his throat.

He’s already said so much and he can’t believe he’s gonna open his mouth and continue, and yet.

“Somedays it’s like an itch I can’t get at,” he murmurs, and slowly pulls on his left sleeve. There’s already a fading red-purple dash of skin rubbed raw starting to heal. There’s a bruise a little closer to his wrist bone, where he’d been pinching at just a couple of days ago, just to keep himself grounded to reality and focused on a lecture.

Hyunwoo takes it in and seems to be still not breathing right, or at all, but he doesn’t reach over to touch, he just… looks. Hoseok’s grateful in a way he can’t comprehend, but the idea of Hyunwoo touching him right now doesn’t sit right with him and he appreciates the action, or lack thereof, more like.

“Somedays it’s an itch that I _have_ to scratch at just to know it’s just not in my head.”

Hyunwoo’s silent for a moment and Hoseok thinks maybe he should just go and freak out alone in his room but then Hyunwoo reaches a tentative hand out towards him and Hoseok holds his breath and remains very still until Hyunwoo gets to wrap gentle fingers around Hoseok’s left wrist. So gentle Hoseok can barely feel it. Or maybe he’s just not as anchored to reality as he thought he is and—

“I’m sorry,” Hyunwoo says, and his fingers tighten a little and with them Hoseok’s heart eases a little in turn and the painful grip in his lungs lets up enough to breathe in a painful mouthful of air.

Hoseok shakes his head. “Why are you apologizing, it’s not your fault.” It’d be so much easier if this were someone’s fault, though, someone Hoseok could look in the eye and say _Fuck you and fucking take these feelings with you_ to.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to ask about it,” Hyunwoo says.

Mrs Cho calls them triggers. They just… happen. Hoseok’s been learning to sift through thought and emotion to pinpoint exactly what causes the gears in his brain to shift, so to speak, and stir him off the cliff. Mrs Cho says it takes time to figure them out, that what causes a reaction one day, might not the next so, yes, it’s okay to feel adrift and tetherless for a bit before finding ground.

Right now he thinks Hyunwoo holds all the triggers and it’s a fucked-up thought, makes Hoseok feel bile rise up his throat, because there’s a lot of shitty things in his life but Hyunwoo’s never been on that list. It sucks that his own brain, his brain that has registered Hyunwoo along with _safe_ and _home_ and _good_, is now listing Hyunwoo off and nearly chucking him out the window.

His face feels stiff, numb almost. He tries to smile, at least he thinks he is, and breathes through the hammering in his chest. “I gotta go. I have a couple essays to finish.” His voice is ragged and his palms are sweaty, his fingers feel stiff too and there’s dull pain in every joint of his body, like the echo of sensation, not quite there.

Hyunwoo nods in a way that feels like he understands more than Hoseok’s willing to share, and asks, “Will you be alright?”

_Stupid_, Hoseok wants to smart back, _god, but I love you and some days I really wish I didn’t_. “Yeah, wanna meet up for lunch tomorrow? I think I’m off around two, you free then?” He’s gathering his stuff from Hyunwoo’s desk when Hyunwoo stands—Hoseok feels the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end when Hyunwoo steps close and, fuck, it does _not_ help.

When they were kids and heading towards their growth spurts, Hyunwoo never knew quite how to move around much with those limbs of his. Like a bull in a china shop, their mothers used to say; a real gentle and soft but large bull, in Hoseok’s (very biased) opinion. It’s difficult, in a way, to see him so guarded now, so careful with his movements, so in control as he steps close to Hoseok and reaches for his arm and then both his arms are around Hoseok’s middle, his chin on Hoseok’s shoulder.

They haven’t hugged in a while, Hoseok notes sadly. (They won’t, not the same as ever, he’ll note later.)

“Meet you for lunch, then,” Hyunwoo mumbles, and it’s only wishful thinking and Hoseok’s hyperactive and anxiety-riddled brain that makes it feel like Hyunwoo presses his mouth, briefly, to the side of his head as he pulls away.

“Lunch,” Hoseok agrees, and smiles numbly as he closes the door behind himself and steps into the hall.

+

The headaches are the worst things, he thinks. After particular hard and lengthy episodes, the headaches can last up to two fucking days, and that can’t be healthy on anyone, not even someone who doesn’t deal with anxiety and/or panic attacks almost daily.

At least he’s getting better at talking himself down from them, and the breathing techniques he’s been going through with Dr Wang help out a lot to at least contain the worst of it.

College life passes in a blur of essays and partying and slightly better life-choices and medication. Therapy becomes a constant in his life and something he talks freely about with anyone who asks; mostly is just Hyunwoo who asks how every session went, if he feels comfortable with Dr Wang now, if he’s okay with the doses he takes and if he’s willing to try this ancient Mayan breathing exercise he read about online.

He tries, is the thing—they all do, all of Hoseok’s closest friends—to understand, even if some days Hoseok himself can’t understand what he goes through and takes him hours to touch ground with his own mind.

Kihyun says, when they’re drinking and he’s had one too many soju bombs, “You don’t have to feel sorry for yourself. You’re still out there, trying, despite everything; that makes you a special kind of brave, and you should be proud of that,” and Hoseok only believes him in those moments because there’s nothing much he believes in these days and Kihyun means well.

Minhyuk hugs him extra hard when they meet after Hoseok’s weekly sessions, and asks if he’s made up his mind on his business pitch about becoming drug dealers now that Hoseok has ‘access’. It always makes Hoseok laugh till there are tears in his eyes, and it helps unwind his mind from it all.

They all take it much better than Hoseok’s parents do, and in a way, he’d almost expected it. 

His mom is quiet during their monthly lunch, his dad stares off into the distance like shit isn’t happening and only Hoseok’s brother says, “As long as it helps you out to feel better,” which is a lot better than fucking nothing, is it.

His father still mutters, “I think it’s a waste of money, you could talk to _us_,” and Hoseok snorts so hard rice comes flying out his mouth. He apologizes numbly and he can’t look them in eye, even as he stands up on shaky feet and thanks them for the food and leaves without looking back.

Later, while he’s on the train back to the city, Hyunwoo calls, because of course he does.

“What,” he answers with, still counting through his breaths.

“Your brother just called,” Hyunwoo says softly. “Are you alright?”

“What the fuck do you think,” Hoseok asks through clenched teeth, bones rattling as hard as the train tracks. “Hyunwoo, I’m really not in the fucking mood right now, so I’ll call you back, okay—”

“One of the interns brought in a stray cat this afternoon,” Hyunwoo says lightly, and then: “We named her Dior—more like Minhyuk named her, but he’s shitty at naming things so we just call her Dee. She’s completely black except for a tiny white toe on her left front paw. She might be between eight and ten weeks old, but she’s healthy enough and seems to have a good appetite. Oh, but she was _hilarious_ when we tried to give her a bath—I have pictures of Minhyuk’s scratches and one epic shot of him trying to disentangle her from his hair. God, his _face_. I’ll show you when you come home.”

Hoseok breathes through it. He counts and breathes and lets Hyunwoo’s voice and the noises of the cabin wash over him until his breathing comes and goes easy and the numbness sticks only to his knees. Hyunwoo’s story feels endless—somewhere in Hoseok’s brain, where things aren’t as fucked up, he thinks he would really like to meet this cat—but his voice is gentle and grounding and Hoseok chuckles along with him at the funny parts.

“How far out are you?” Hyunwoo asks after a quiet pause.

Hoseok looks at the sign above the doors. “Three more stops.” His voice feels dull with disuse.

“I can meet you, I’m just leaving work.” Hyunwoo waits a beat and asks, “Would that be okay?”

He always asks. Whether it’s about what they’ll have for dinner or if he can join Hoseok at the library, he always asks if it’s okay with Hoseok first. It’s nice on the good days but nerve-wracking on the bad ones, and Hoseok’s not having a particularly good day right now. He still appreciates it, though, and if he’s honest with himself—which he’s learning how to, thank you very much—he wants company right now and not to feel alone.

“Can we keep talking till then, though?” he asks back.

Hyunwoo huffs a tiny, pleased laugh through the line. “’course we can. You might have to chip in on my phone bill at the end of the month, though.”

Hoseok smiles sideways. “Let’s just get a family plan, might save us some money in the end.”

“Ooh, I’ll look into that,” Hyunwoo agrees, and then continues on his tale of Dee and Minhyuk having a stand-off before one of her shots.

When they meet Hyunwoo’s got his bag thrown over his shoulder and his jacket in the other. It’s not chilly enough to require a jacket at all but Hyunwoo says he likes to be prepared, which is such a Hyunwoo thing that Hoseok thinks fondly about. Hoseok meets him at the sidewalk and Hyunwoo beams at him, his eyes disappearing, and Hoseok’s lips twitch up into a smile even if he doesn’t really feel like smiling.

“You want something to eat? I have a banana in my bag,” Hyunwoo says as they start walking in the direction to their dorms.

Hoseok shakes his head. “Nah, I’m fine.” He smiles wryly. “Ask me again later, though, didn’t really have any lunch at my parents.”

“You wanna talk about it?” Hyunwoo nudges their elbows together and leaves them like that. The street isn’t crowded at all but they still keep close to each other and Hoseok rather likes it, finds it all the more comforting. “On the phone you said you weren’t on the mood.”

“I was staving off a panic attack, pal, wasn’t really on the mood for anything other than keeping on breathing.” Hoseok huffs out a breath, shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t think there’s really much to talk about. I told them about therapy and they didn’t like it. I can’t _make_ them like it, or _support it_, not when they don’t want to.”

Hyunwoo’s silent for half a block and then he asks, “It was your dad, wasn’t it?”

“Wild fucking guess, huh.”

“Not really. He’s always been a dick, though.”

A few years ago Hoseok would’ve probably stood up for the man. In light of recent events, he can’t help but agree. “I almost wanna say ‘not always’,” he admits. “There were good years, remember?”

Hyunwoo shrugs. “Two wrongs don’t make a right, babe.”

“You liking that Ethics seminar I keep ‘dragging’ you to, I see,” Hoseok retorts with a tiny smile.

“I’m just stating a fact,” Hyunwoo defends himself, and nudges Hoseok nearly off the sidewalk. “And I realize you’re deflecting, too. But whatever. Your dad’s still a dick.”

Hoseok sighs. “Yeah, he is.”

They’ve reached university grounds when Hyunwoo pulls him to a stop, a hand around Hoseok’s wrist. The yellow lamplight casts him in a weird and eerie glow, but he still looks handsome and huge, impossible, almost.

“You know even if they don’t support it, we all—your friends—we do, right?” Hyunwoo asks, solemn and serious. He looks so _intense_ and it does things to Hoseok’s already tired heart, to see the set of his shoulders, the grim line of his mouth, because even if he won’t say it, Hoseok knows Hyunwoo’s never really much liked his dad and he’s been saying what a dick he is for years. “We support you in every way, we want to see you be happy and we know therapy helps. We support it because it’s your decision, and we’re proud of you for it, too.”

Hoseok wets his lips. “Kihyun says therapy is for rich kids with trust funds, though.”

Hyunwoo rolls his eyes. “Kihyun _is_ a rich kid with a trust fund, his opinion doesn’t really matter, okay.”

It makes Hoseok laugh, belly-deep, freeing. “Thanks, man. I know you’ve got my back.”

“I do,” Hyunwoo nods. “We all do.”

+

Senior year is a fucking blur. Hoseok doesn’t graduate with honors but he fucking graduates, and that’s his own biggest win, period. He has no fucking clue what to do with a major in Music Theory in this economy but the small studio he’s been interning at for almost a year now has offered him a part-time job as Assistant Producer while he settles into life after college (his boss is a rather spiritual man, he has come to learn), so it looks promising.

Hyunwoo still has a year left to go in Vet school but on Hoseok’s graduation day they sit at the McDonald’s nearby for a celebratory dinner along with the guys (Kihyun graduated, too) and says, “I want out of the dorms, I barely have any classes in campus this semester, and it’s too far from the university clinic anyway.”

Hoseok licks ketchup off the corner of his mouth as Minhyuk says, “Move in with me and Dior, then, you fucktard. I’ve been telling you to for weeks now.”

Across the table Hyunwoo finds Hoseok’s eyes and Hoseok’s stomach does this funny flip until it’s possibly lodged between his goddamn tonsils.

The thing is Hoseok’s already found a tiny apartment three stops away from the studio that is conveniently only five stops away from the pet clinic Hyunwoo interns at and that, also conveniently, is a two-bedroom apartment. It’s a hole in the wall, really, but it’s cheap and well-lit and _cheap_, and Hoseok holds onto this last fact as he steels himself. 

He holds his breath. Hyunwoo’s eyebrows twitch a little.

“Move in with me, then,” he says slowly, reaching for a stray fry off the side of his carton. Kihyun, sitting next to him, shifts minutely and Hoseok is acutely aware of it.

Hoseok’s been roommates with Hyunwoo for the past semester, which has been both a great and very stressful experience. Hoseok has learned to put the thought of him being in love with his best friend in the furthest corner of his mind, where he can’t get at most days. Living in close quarters for five months has made it difficult for him to do exactly that, because now Hoseok doesn’t have to imagine what Hyunwoo waking up looks like, he _knows_.

He’s fucking adorable and Hoseok’s gonna start taking heart medication too anytime now, he’s sure of it.

That’s only one of the good things. Hoseok’s got a list. Hyunwoo’s not only adorable when he wakes up—it’s like he doesn’t even know where he is for the first ten seconds he’s awake—he’s also pretty fucking cute when he’s frustrated with school work. He’s shit at keeping his side of the room in order, but he makes up for it by always buying extra microwaveable burritos. He’s also a little clingy when he’s drunk and likes to sing a lot of _Lee Hyori_ while he mellows out, which is the funniest shit to ever witness and a hundred percent of the time makes Hoseok break into song along with him.

College life has been a real experience as far as Hyunwoo-things are concerned—it’s strange, but only a little, to see what kind of grown-up Hyunwoo is actually growing into.

(And with the good comes the bad. Hoseok’s now aware of what it’s like to fake to be asleep and pretend he isn’t listening to Hyunwoo jerking off on the bed across the room. Hoseok’s now _very_ aware of what Hyunwoo sounds like when he comes and what it’s like to go to sleep frustrated and with his dick so hard it aches between his legs.

Hyunwoo’s so busy with both school and his internship that Hoseok thinks he doesn’t get laid regularly (Hoseok doesn’t, but that’s more personal choice than lack of trying), but it’s still a shock to come into their room one afternoon to find him on top of another guy, shirtless and _grinding_. Hoseok’s pretty sure he hasn’t been strictly _okay_ since then, not even with the medication he’s been on, and that just sucks.)

This—these facts—this Hoseok keeps in that far corner he doesn’t dare touch, and now he’s willingly going to put himself through it for god knows how long.

“We go halfsies on everything,” Hyunwoo asks, and Hoseok nods dumbly, and next to him Kihyun shakes with silent laughter. “Alright, sweet. When can I move in?”

Kihyun throws half a fry in Hyunwoo’s direction, missing by half a mile, at least. “You’re an intern, you don’t get paid, you can’t go halfsies on anything, Hyunwoo.”

Hyunwoo sniffs. “I’ll have you know I already completed my internship hours. I’ll have a full-time job starting September.”

Hoseok’s eyes almost fall out of their sockets. “What? When did that happen?”

Hyunwoo shrugs. “Dr Kim offered me the day shifts; I think he’s gonna retire next year, and his son already works the afternoon shifts, so they were one person short anyway.” At Hoseok’s still shocked expression, he mumbles, “Minhyuk got hired, too, you know.”

Minhyuk whoops loudly. “Damn fucking right I did.”

“So we’re all celebrating tonight,” Kihyun grins with a roll of eyes. “Way to steal our thunder, guys.”

“Just be happy for us, you little asshole,” Minhyuk whines. “Let’s celebrate for reals, though, let’s go dancing tonight.”

“Now _that’s_ an idea, Minhyuk, you keep surprising me,” Kihyun retorts.

Minhyuk and Kihyun get into one of their petty (loud) fights but Hoseok’s gotten real good at tuning them out. He reaches across the table to steal one of Hyunwoo’s nuggets.

“Drinks, then?” he asks.

Hyunwoo smirks and smacks his hand off when he tries to steal another nugget. “Drinks,” is all he says.

They pre-game at Kihyun’s because he’s the only one who isn’t stingy when it comes to alcohol. Hoseok’s buzzing pleasantly and clings to Minhyuk as they make their way into the club and then find themselves a spot at the bar and near the dancefloor where, later, Kihyun sets a tray of shots.

He says, “To fucking adulthood,” and they all drink, and Hoseok grins as it goes down his throat to settle warmly in his belly. Hyunwoo leans into him and puts his mouth to Hoseok’s ear, yells “Let’s fucking dance!” and Hoseok feels the thump of the bass on his skin, in his veins, as he blindly takes Hyunwoo’s hand and drags him to the dance floor.

He catches Kihyun’s eyes as they leave, and Kihyun’s mouth twists into a small smile and his eyebrows do that weird thing where he thinks he waggles them but they just shake funnily. “Have fun, guys,” he yells and then yells at Minhyuk to stay put while he goes to return the tray somewhere behind the bar.

“What was that,” Hyunwoo yells in Hoseok’s ear again. They’re moving to the beat, standing close to one another, and fuck, why does he smell so fucking good, is what Hoseok wants to know. The shirt he’s wearing—is it even a shirt, though, Hyunwoo has cut off the sleeves and arm holes are so stretched wide enough Hoseok can see his fucking _nipples_—sticks to him a little, already sweaty, and his jeans are tight enough Hoseok’s gut twists dangerously.

“What was what,” he yells back, and what-fucking-if his lips graze the shell of Hyunwoo’s ear a little.

“You and Kihyun,” Hyunwoo nods his head back to the bar, but his eyes remain on Hoseok’s, “That smile.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Hoseok frowns a little, and Hyunwoo’s lips curve into a wry smile before he yells,

“Of course you don’t, Hoseok.”

He’s grinning fondly, though, and his hand is hot and heavy on Hoseok’s waist, so Hoseok lets it go and moves to the beat and laughs when Kihyun and Minhyuk appear at his back with a couple of extra shots and Minhyuk yells, “Shots, bitches, drink up, you can make out later!”

Hyunwoo laughs and knocks the shot down, Hoseok watching him through the corner of his eye as he takes his own. They hand the glasses back to Kihyun—Hoseok’s starting to suspect he owns the place or something—and then Hyunwoo wets his lips and tugs Hoseok deeper into the moving mass of dancing bodies.

“Come on,” he says, “dance with me, Hoseok.”

It’s like they’re suddenly pushed together from every direction. Hoseok can feel the long, lithe and strong line of Hyunwoo’s body pressed to his, their chests touching. They move to the beat and it’s good, it makes Hoseok’s blood come to a simmer, makes his heart thump hard enough he thinks Hyunwoo might hear it too.

Hyunwoo’s hands are on his hips and then they move to his lower back and Hoseok’s buzzed enough to think, _Yes, yes, I want this, you want this_, and he puts his arms around Hyunwoo’s neck like he’s done it before.

Hyunwoo brings their foreheads together first. His eyes are closed and Hoseok doesn’t wanna close his in case it turns out this isn’t real when he opens them back. Hyunwoo shifts then and his cheek is pressed to Hoseok’s, and his lips are parted and mouth along to the song playing. Hoseok’s blood comes to a boil and he recognizes the tug in his chest, the ache in his lungs and the shakes on his fingers as the beginning of an anxiety attack, but there’s where the symptoms halt to a breathless stop—nothing else happens, Hoseok’s brain doesn’t blur into fog and numbness, he stays in the moment, anchored between Hyunwoo’s hands and with the awfully knowing sensation that the shift between them is imminent, vertigo behind his tongue, and isn’t sure whether to rush into it or take a step back and salvage what they still can.

Hoseok’s terrible at self-preservation, it turns out.

Hyunwoo tastes like vodka and something sweet. He tastes like the answer to a prayer and catastrophe all at once and Hoseok’s weak against it, against the pull of their mouths, the almost desperate clutch of their fingers. Hoseok gasps and Hyunwoo kisses him harder, licks his mouth open and steals the breath right off Hoseok’s lungs; their hips grind together a little and the groan that rises from Hyunwoo’s chest feels fucking beautiful around Hoseok’s tongue.

It goes on forever and lasts only a handful of seconds.

They part way too soon. Hoseok’s breathing hard through his nose and Hyunwoo’s panting through his mouth and they cling to each other and Hoseok’s afraid, _so fucking afraid_, because he has to open his eyes now. Hyunwoo cups his cheek with a broad hand, his palm sweaty but fucking wonderful, and his thumb touches the corner of Hoseok’s mouth gently.

Hoseok opens his eyes and Hyunwoo is a technicolor sight in front of him, kissed breathless and silent.

And then Minhyuk bursts through the crowd, and Kihyun’s there, too, and there are more drinks and Hoseok’s mouth feels raw as he grins and takes whatever’s put in his hand; Hyunwoo, a drink of his own in hand, throws a quick, hopeless smile at him, a sort of, ‘What you gonna do, it’s _Minhyuk_’, and Hoseok shakes loose of the tight grip around his gut and downs his shot before they all follow.

They dance and dance and dance, and Hoseok gets lost in it and doesn’t dare to look in Hyunwoo’s direction again.

In the morning it’s just him and Kihyun in Kihyun’s bright apartment. There’s a headache beating in between Hoseok’s temples and he can’t bring himself to open his eyes anymore, so he just sits there, in Kihyun’s big, fancy couch, and wills himself into breathing, but barely.

“Saw you and Hyunwoo last night,” comes from the other side of the living room, where Kihyun’s been sitting on the other big, fancy couch watching the news. “It was Minhyuk’s idea to interrupt you two, if you’re thinking of killing someone.”

“It was probably for the best,” Hoseok mutters.

“Why?” Kihyun asks.

“Wouldn’t work out,” Hoseok sighs, already tired of this conversation, tired of existing. “Look, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You’re gonna have to talk about it, though,” Kihyun says. “With him, at least.”

Hoseok doesn’t reply, mostly because even talking hurts his brain right now.

But what he doesn’t tell Kihyun is this:

Hyunwoo getting up at ass o’clock—probably eight am, okay, whatever—and running into Hoseok on his way from the bathroom after he’d thrown up the first time.

“Minhyuk and I are heading out,” Hyunwoo says, voice like gravel. For some reason it reminds Hoseok of having his tongue down Hyunwoo’s throat, and his stomach twists up again. “You okay?”

“Hangover,” Hoseok mutters.

Hyunwoo nods. Hoseok notices he’s wearing one Kihyun’s hoodies, and it looks ridiculously small on him. Hoseok sort of wants to rip it off him. With his fucking teeth.

“God, I’m gonna throw up again,” he exhales, leaning back against the door of the bathroom.

“You want me to get you anything?”

“No, no, I’m fine. You should get going.”

They stand in uncomfortable silence for a while, a moment in which Hoseok looks only at the floor by Hyunwoo’s feet and nothing much else. And then, because Hyunwoo _is_ Hyunwoo after all, he says, “Hoseok, about last night.”

“Last night,” Hoseok echoes, and if he licks his lips it’s only because his mouth is dry and not because he’s chasing the phantom touch of Hyunwoo’s own. And if, maybe, he steals a glance at Hyunwoo while he does so and finds him staring intently at his mouth, it’s only because he’s fucking human and so in love it hurts. “Last night we were both pretty drunk, Hyunwoo,” he says slowly. He smiles a bit wryly, mostly because he feels like shit and he really is gonna throw up again, “We really shouldn’t have drunk so much.”

“Yeah,” Hyunwoo agrees a tense moment later, his voice still rough, his shoulders slumped. “Yeah, we shouldn’t have.”

He leaves with a, “I’ll see you later, Hoseok,” and Hoseok pretends he doesn’t sound dejected and later in the month when Hyunwoo comes round the new apartment to drop some of his stuff and officially moves in, Hoseok pretends he isn’t breaking apart around the seams with every passing day.

**Author's Note:**

> the first half of this was written in the aftermath of a particularly difficult episode of anxiety and i have only read through it twice, so if there are any typos, you know why. i might go back to it later.
> 
> i found writing this was as cathartic as i could make it; basically 90% of what you just read are rl happenings of yours truly, even the thought process in some parts, except for the club scene *wink*. i wish i had myself a whole son hyunwoo, damn. 
> 
> truly, guys, i was lucky enough to find help at a very crucial point in life and i am very grateful to all the people that were there for me and supported me and my choices. it's tough out there, guys, please please please stay safe and never be afraid to reach out.


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